Desolation Tragedy

It didnt have to be this way

I remember the first time I saw her. We were in grade 7 and I had just walked into the class. To be honest, I didn't realise that she existed until we made eye contact.
Walking into the music class, looking around to see what seat I would sit in for that lesson, a pair of clear eyes caught me. And I felt trapped. I was almost obliged to sit next to her. Firstly, I couldn't be sure if anyone else would offer me a seat, and I have always struggled to make new friends. She was my first new friend at middle school. And it's because of a very simple look we gave each other that lesson which secured our fate to come.
...
"Lena, are we going to die?" I look across at her from my position on the couch. She's on the other side of the canal boat, standing up with her arms crossed. She doesn't normally stand like that, but one arm is practically rubbing the other's elbow. Nervous. Worried. Just like how I feel. To her I must be showing all my fright. I'm huddled into a ball, gazing out the window by my side. Or trying to. There's a tree which has fallen right in front of this whole side of the boat. I can't see out and I think it's probably better that way. If I could see, I wouldn't like all the destruction. And I wouldn't be able to try and be strong. And Teddie would be the one with her delicate hands rubbing my elbows.
...
The first lesson we spent together was awkward to say the least. Sure, we had a 'moment' to start the lesson and bring us together physically. But when it came to actually doing paired work together, it was a struggle to speak to her. Maybe even then my subconscious knew what I only realised in the last month. Maybe that's why I couldn't talk to Teddie back in September of grade 7 - my brain knew I had already fallen for her and didn't want to ruin our relationship. Even recently we seemed to go silent around each other. But that must have been on my behalf. Because I've since established that I have so loved Teddie for a while. And I was getting more nervous about being myself. For no reason what so ever because it's not like we dated, not like saying anything was going to cause massive issues for our relationship. Because we were only friends. Fortunately for the immature me, I was oblivious to the possibility I liked her as I do now and continued to seek her friendship. We were both lonely, there wasn't anyone we knew in our class and this meant we had to spend all our time with each other after we realised each other existed. There's a bubble of joy you feel when that person notices you, when they pick you to be their partner for whatever task the teacher has asked you to do. Any chance to get to know her I grabbed as quick as humanely possible. Although, to this day, I still feel stupid for never asking to eat lunch with her. That held back the friendship's development. We have both always been quiet and supposedly shy creatures so neither had the confidence to ask the other about lunchtimes or anything too friendly like that. I cringe now thinking about how idiotic our pathetic excuse of a friendship was. I'm so grateful for the break we took from each other when we both found another friend. A proper friend. One we just took to confidently and happily. And just like it was meant to be, our new friends were friends with each other. This meant we became the perfect foursome and I finally became comfortable with Teddie and that we would be secure friends for years.
...
"It's okay." I stroke Teddie's hair and tuck a piece behind her left ear as I hug her into my huddled embrace on the couch. Our legs become a tangled mess as they spread along the length of the couch. She cries into my shoulder and I try to hold her but rub her back simultaneously, feebly trying to console her.
"Lena, what if I never get to see my parents again?" She's fretting so much that it makes me feel on edge, just like she's precariously hanging off the edge of the couch. I so badly want to pull Teddie into my lap, but obviously I can't ruin any relationship we have by making things awkward between us. She knows I'm bisexual. And I feel awkward to be around my straight, slightly homophobic friends. Especially if it involves hugging them so intimately like this. To make things worse, we seem to have had another bonding moment in the last week that we've been on this canal boat with my parents on our holiday. It's become a tradition. To alternate who takes who on holiday. Last year her parents took us to Wales. Now it's my parents turn and here we are, stranded by a storm, segregated from my parents on a boat which has lost some of its windows and all power. I'm just waiting for the rain to water log the rest of the boat. And that's why Teddie is stressing. She can't tell when the thunder and rain will stop. And neither can I.
...
Storms raged for the most part in grade 8. Emotionally that is. We have two other friends who are very sociable and that meant they brought other people into our friendship group. And Teddie's hormones were all over the place. She would lash out, angry that they were ignoring her. These new people affected me the most. But I never said anything about it and I wasn't the sort of person to get annoyed and show it. Teddie always showed how irritating being ignored and under valued was for her. I felt bad for her. But at least I wasn't alone in how I felt about the new friends. I didn't like them. Didn't get on well because I never got the chance to know them one to one. Just watched them take mine and Teddie's role in the group. Our foursome quickly evolved into 8 with others coming and going wherever. That was a stormy year for the group's friendship. But reaffirmed ours, because we bonded over having only each other. Yet again. And to think I wouldn't have had anything else to do without her then. I'm so glad we met.
But right now, if we hadn't met, things didn't have to be like this. I wouldn't be worrying that the love of my life wouldn't get dangerously ill. Or that I would.